“Get out,” he said through the open door. “I’m not going to kill you. I was advised to, and I can’t say you don’t deserve it, but I’ve got a better use for you.”
At first there was only silence. Then Tom heard a stirring, and the hit man said, “What use is that?”
“Errand boy. You’re going to carry a message for me, Mr. Grimsby.”
“To who?”
“Your boss. Forrest Knox.”
More silence.
“But first you’re gonna get that goddamned corpse out of the truck. Move it, son. Double-quick. I don’t have all night.”
“I’m tied to the goddamn gun rack!”
Tom reached into his pocket and dug out a steak knife he’d taken from the kitchen of Drew Elliott’s lake house. He leaned into the truck and tossed it onto the backseat.
“Make it quick. And if you come at me with that knife, I’ll put a bullet in your gut, the same as I did your partner.”
After half a minute of grunts and struggle, he heard a mechanical thunk. Then the rear door on the driver’s side swung open. “I gotta tell you, Doc,” said the voice behind the door, “you’re a walking dead man. You know that, right?”
“Bold words for an unarmed man on the wrong end of a pistol.”
The hit man’s feet touched the ground, and then he stepped out from behind the door—a tall, thin man with his hands now free, and a knife in one of them.
“You’re not gonna kill me?” Grimsby said, obviously trying to decide whether to risk a charge.
“I will if you don’t drop that knife.”
Grimsby’s twitchy eyes moved up and down Tom’s frame, assessing his condition. Sensing the man was going to rush him, Tom fired a round at his feet.
“Goddamn it!” yelled the hit man as the deep echo rolled over the fields like a thunderclap.
“Drop the knife,” Tom repeated.
The blade hit the pavement.
“Now, get your partner out of that backseat.”
“Get him yourself.”
Tom waved the gun.
“You won’t shoot me.”
“I killed your partner.”
“That was different. That was self-defense.”
Tom laughed. “Remember that, if you’re ever asked to testify against me.”
“You’ll never see a courtroom, Doc. Nobody who crosses Colonel Knox ever does.”
Tom figured this was true. “Maybe I’m the exception. I’ve beat the odds so far.” He aimed his pistol at the hit man’s shoes. “I can’t leave here with that corpse in the backseat. Get him out, or I’ll put a bullet in your foot. You probably won’t die from it, but this is a Magnum. You might go into shock, and they’ll definitely have to amputate.”
Grimsby worked his mouth around anxiously, trying to gauge Tom’s ruthlessness. After a face-saving moment, he walked back behind the door and bent to his work, which was dragging a dead body off a truck’s floor and onto the shoulder of a dirt road. While he worked, Tom stood twenty feet away and gave him his brief, beginning with a lie.
“You’re ten miles from the closest human habitation. Even if you run all the way, I’ll be long gone by the time you can get to a phone and call Knox. But when you do get him, I have a message for him.”
A strained grunt was the only response.
“Did you hear me, shitbird?”
“I heard you, goddamn it. He’s heavy.”
“There’s a reason they call it dead weight, son. Now, listen up. About the stupidest thing Forrest could do at this point is kill me. If he does, my son and Caitlin Masters won’t rest until Forrest is rotting in jail or dead himself. That might not scare you, but it will him. Because he’s got a brain, like his father. I knew Frank Knox, you see. And Frank was no fool. Now, Forrest has probably already considered trying to silence my boy and his girl. But I’ve got a better solution for him. Far better. You see, if he’ll help me with my problem . . . I’ll help him with his.”
The dead man’s head and shoulders dropped beneath the bottom of the door, hanging in the air like a deer carcass.
“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Grimsby, leaning out of the truck. “How can you help the colonel?”
“I can call off my daughter-in-law and her newspaper. She’ll have to cover the deaths that have happened already, and might touch the Double Eagles, but I can keep Forrest’s name out of the papers. I can guarantee my son won’t pursue him either, and Forrest will know the value of that. It was my son who nailed those bastards running the dogfighting ring out of the Magnolia Queen. You remember that?”
“I remember.”
“I can’t do anything about the FBI chasing Forrest, but that’s his lookout. There are also certain things I know that could hurt Forrest, as well as Snake and the others. The old guys will know what I’m talking about. I’ll keep those buried, as well.”
With a long heave and a steady driving of his feet, Grimsby finally dragged the corpse clear of the truck. The dead man’s shoes hit the cold earth with dull thuds.
The hit man straightened up and rubbed his hands together, his breath steaming in the chilled air. “What do you want in exchange for all that?”
“I need Forrest to call off the hunt for me and Garrity. That trooper tried to kill me, and he got what he deserved. Forrest can also clear me of the Viola Turner murder charge.”
“How the hell can he do that?”
“By blaming the murder on somebody else.”
“Such as?”
“Yesterday I was thinking Glenn Morehouse, but that might be a little close for comfort, considering he was a Double Eagle. Now Brody Royal and his son-in-law look like perfect candidates. Forrest can hang everything on them.”
“You don’t mind asking for the moon, do you?”
Tom shrugged. “I don’t care if he blames the dead trooper on you, so long as he calls the dogs off me. Have you got all that?”
Grimsby snorted in derision.
“Tell Forrest I’ll be waiting for his signal that he accepts my terms.”